The Letter Writer
by MaidofShadow
Summary: "Dear friend, I really don't know how I'm supposed to start this letter. What can I say that will make you understand how important this is to me? How important it is that you respond? Nothing really. Still, I'd better try." Will is Jack Sparrow's personal assistant and he hates it. He needs an escape and one day a letter arrives that allows him just that. Modern day AU Will/OC
1. Prologue

**Yeah, I know, I know. I shouldn't be starting a new story but I've been meaning to write this one for a very long time. This prologue is sort of boring but I'll post the next chapter as soon as I can. It's an modern day POTC AU and its a Will/OC story. I really hope you like it.  
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**Disclaimer: I do not own Pirates of the Caribbean.**

Prologue:

She sat in her tiny New York apartment on one afternoon in March, thinking. There was a pen and paper set out in front of her on the desk of her small home. She thought for hours about how to start the letter, about how to go about this.

Eventually, the room felt too stuffy and she couldn't stand it anymore. She grabbed her keys, the pen, the paper and a hardcover book and left. She went up the stairs to the very top of the building. She opened the door to the roof almost desperately, in an attempt to get to fresh air, in an attempt to get to the sky. She took a deep breath as she walked out onto the roof, splaying out her fingers to feel the wind, closing her eyes to hear the city.

She loved it up here. Here she could see everything, hear everything, be a part of everything. Here she could understand the world. Here she could be free.

She sat in a worn down lawn chair that someone had placed on the roof years ago and forgotten about. She placed her paper on top of her book and put the pen in her mouth. She just needed the right start. Once she had that she knew that the words would flow out of her as they always did. She thought for a moment before putting her pen to paper.

_Dear friend,_ she began.

* * *

><p>He sat down at his desk and rubbed his temples. He honestly hated his job. He hated his boss, he hated his office, he hated his profession. Still, it paid the bills. All he could do was wait for the work day to be over, as he did every day.<p>

Finally he was allowed to leave. He said goodbye to the secretary and waved at the woman who made everyone coffee but whose name he had never found out. He did this every day. He was stuck in a routine and he hated it.

He wanted something more from life. He wanted the world to be everything he had hoped it would be when he was a child. He wanted to try something new, to be someone different. He wanted to escape. But he couldn't do that.

He needed to work to pay the bills; and he needed to have the life he did for work. It was a vicious cycle but he was trapped and he didn't know how to get out.

As he started his car, he couldn't help but think that he wasn't living. He was simply existing.

* * *

><p>She sent the letter the next day. She had chosen a random city by throwing a dart at a map. The actual address she had chosen had just been the first word to pop into her head and the first number. She had checked on the internet, the street was real and the building was too. It was an apartment building so she chose another random number for the specific apartment. <em>This probably won't work, <em>she thought_, but I have to try. I have to try._

* * *

><p>He walked into his building and said hi to the doorman, then went straight to the mailbox. He grabbed everything in it and headed for the stairs to his apartment, just as he always did. He opened the door and threw his keys into the bowl where he kept them before going to grab a drink from the fridge. Once he had it he settled on the couch and began sorting through the mail.<p>

_Bills, bills, bills,_ he thought. _It's always bills._

He nearly missed the last envelope. It was different from the others. For one thing it was the type of envelope that people sent birthday cards in, companies didn't use that kind. There was no little plastic window. There was, however, a stamp. And handwriting; there was handwriting on the front. The letter had his address on it but not his name.

He gazed at it curiously, wondering if he should open it. Eventually he decided that he should. What did he have to lose?

He opened the letter and began to read the elegant handwriting.

_Dear friend…_

**Love it? Hate it? PLEASE REVIEW! It would mean so much to me and it would mean the next chapter is more likely to come faster. Tell me what you think!  
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**Thanks,**

**~Liliana**


	2. Chapter 1

**New chapter! This is almost like another prologue but the story will get going in the next chapter, trust me. I really hope you like this and continue to read my story. Thanks to the 2 people that reviewed; it means a lot! Please enjoy the new chapter.**

**PS there is a tiny Supernatural reference because it seemed appropriate (I do not own Supernatural)**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Pirates of the Caribbean.**

Chapter 1:

_Dear friend,_

_I really don't know how I'm supposed to start this letter. What can I say that will make you understand how important this is to me? How important it is that you respond? Nothing really. You wouldn't understand. I'm not saying that you aren't smart enough to understand, I'm saying that I'm not smart enough to say it in a way that would make sense to anyone else._

_Still, I'd better try._

_I have some misplaced sense of martyrdom that tells me I must help at least one person before I die. I mean, really help someone. Do something life changing. This letter is supposed to be your salvation, as well as mine._

_I know I'm not an angel and shouldn't pretend to be one but I need this to work. Too little people have people who are there for them. Too little people have someone who will understand them. I want to understand you. I want you to understand me. I want you to have someone you can turn to._

_So I will pretend to be an angel. I will do my best to understand you and be here for you. I will do my best to save you and I will do my best to save myself._

_Sincerely,_

_An Angel of the Lord_

* * *

><p>It had taken him nearly a full week to respond to the letter. He hadn't been able to find the right words. He didn't know how to tell Angel, as he called the writer of the letter in his head, that yes, he wanted what they offered. He wanted it desperately. In the end this is what he came up with:<p>

_Dear Angel of the Lord,_

_I have considered your letter and thought about your offer at great length before deciding to respond, which means I will go along with your quest for salvation. What that means exactly, I don't know but I am hoping you'll explain it in your next letter. I actually hope you'll explain a lot of things in your next letter such as who you are and why and how you chose me. Until you tell me who you are, I won't tell you who I am._

_Sincerely,_

_Friend_

He cringed at the formalness of the letter and how cold he sounded but he didn't have the way with words that Angel did and it was the best he could come up with. He just hoped it would be good enough.

* * *

><p>She received the response about 2 weeks after she sent the first letter. It was dreadfully awkwardly written but she didn't mind. They had responded which was more than she had ever hoped. She wrote back right away and sent it the very next day, hoping to God that they wouldn't change their mind.<p>

* * *

><p>He got the new letter a few days after he had sent his. He had been checking the mailbox eagerly each day since he had responded, hoping that a letter would be waiting for him and that it hadn't been picked up by his girlfriend. He didn't want her opening the letter. He didn't want her knowing about the letter. He wanted the letter to be a secret, something just for him. Angel didn't know his name, so his girlfriend wouldn't know it was for him and not for her. Or worse, because there wasn't a name on the return address she might throw it out and he couldn't let that happen.<p>

When he had finally gotten the letter, he had smiled and tucked it in his pocket for later. He read the letter that night once his girlfriend had left to go out with friends. It said:

_Dear friend,_

_Thank you for responding. I was beginning to think that you wouldn't. It was definitely a pleasant surprise to see your letter in the mail today. _

_To address your concerns, I think it would be better if we didn't know each other's identities. This way you can imagine me however you want and I can imagine you however I want and neither of us will be disappointed. That way we also don't need to worry about being judged. For all I know, you just want to exchange letters so you can laugh at me, and that's fine, everyone should laugh a little more in life, but if that's the case, I would rather you not know who I am._

_About your other concern, I found you by throwing a dart at a map for the city and choosing a random word for the street name and a random number for your building and apartment. I checked to make sure the address actually existed before sending the letter._

_Now on to what our quest for salvation involves. I'm not really sure yet. I think the best we can do is to get to know each other and be there for each other, at least for now. I can be your outlet and whenever you get annoyed at life you can tell me about it and I can offer cheesy advice. Sound good to you?_

_Sincerely,_

_The Cheesy Advice Giver_

He had let out a little chuckle at the letter and the underlying humor. He had spent the next 2 hours thinking about how to respond. Thankfully, he managed to finish his letter before his girlfriend returned home.

He smiled as he drifted off to sleep, feeling an odd sort of sense of satisfaction.

That night, he dreamt of angels.

**Love it? Hate it? PLEASE REVIEW! It would mean a lot and mean more chapters for you! Thanks so much for reading!**

**~Liliana**


	3. Chapter 2

**Finally a new chapter! Yay! Sorry it's taken me so long, I just wasn't really sure how to get the ball rolling. It's not the greatest but it's the best I could come up with after multiple failed attempts. I'm sorry it's so short, I promise to try to make the next chapters longer. You actually get to know their names in this chapter and a bit about the girl for a change, yay! Anyways, I hope you like it!  
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**Note: I will update at least once a month, if not more. I will try to update as much as possible but I can only promise one per month because my life is super hectic right now and I have extreme writer's block on all my stories. Still, I will do my best.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Pirates of the Caribbean or the song Me and Mrs. Jones which in this chapter is sung by Michael Buble.**

Chapter 2:

_Me and Mrs. Jones,_

_We've got a thing going on,_

_We both know that it's wrong,_

_But it's much too strong to let it go now_

The song played quietly in the background of Noelle's favourite café, The Green Bean. She liked it, despite the fact that it was about an unfaithful woman. Michael Buble's voice was soft and calming and she could almost hear the regret in it as he sang about someone he could never truly have.

She sat at her seat by the window, just listening for a moment. She paid attention to the way his voice worked with the instruments and how the chords complimented the lyrics.

She was interrupted by a female voice asking her if she wanted more tea.

"No thank you," Noelle declined politely. The waitress nodded and went off to someone else's table.

Noelle stared out the window, watching as the raindrops raced down the pane of glass. Her left hand played notes on an imaginary piano in time with the music.

They told her she was musically talented, that she had a gift. No matter how hard she tried to believe them, she couldn't. How "talented" could she be if she couldn't write her own music? The furthest she had ever gotten were a few lines of lyrics, a couple bars of song.

Her words never fit the tune and no matter how hard she tried, nothing ever sounded quite right. She didn't want to play pieces by Mozart or Beethoven or even The Beatles. She didn't want to make a living off of others.

She sighed and looked down at the blank sheet of paper in front of her for a moment, before taking a sip of tea and picking up a pen.

_Dear friend,_ she wrote. _Do you ever try so hard at something only to be disappointed time and time again?_

* * *

><p>Elizabeth was singing. She wasn't particularly good but she wasn't bad either. Besides, she always did this; she always sang in the shower and Will was used to it by now. As usual, it was some annoying new pop song that Will had never heard before.<p>

Will didn't know much about music. He didn't really have time to listen to it, considering he spent almost every hour of his day at work and the rest of his time was for Elizabeth or sleeping. Music was a luxury he couldn't afford, though by the sounds of what he had heard from Elizabeth, he wasn't really sure if he wanted to. What they called "music" these days didn't seem worth while anyways.

The bathroom was connected to the bedroom where Will was at that moment, laying down, staring up at the ceiling. He usually would get up right away but today something stopped him. Perhaps it was the fact that he was thinking; thinking about the recent letter he had received.

_And as I sit here, listening to the lyrics of this song, I wonder if I am doomed to be like them; like everyone else. To never be extraordinary in any way, to never be someone special. _

_I know it's selfish but I want to be remembered. It doesn't have to be by the world, just by one person is enough, but at least by_ someone.

_I don't want to live an ordinary life. I want to travel, to see, to love. I want to do it all; everything I can. But how can I do that if I can't pull myself out of this miserable routine? To live is to be spontaneous. I can't even order a new type of drink. Are we forever cursed to this mundane and empty existence or are we made for something more?_

He lay there, letting the remembered words of the letter wash over him. He wondered if he would ever break from routine. He wanted to do something new, something exciting. It was something that Angel seemed to understand, something they seemed to struggle with together.

They both wanted to be more than they were. They weren't happy with the lives they led. They wanted bigger and better things but how could either of them achieve that when they didn't dare stray from the familiarity of regular life?

It only then occurred to him that he was breaking his routine slightly at that very moment, by laying in bed thinking. He was doing something he rarely did, changing things, even just ever so slightly.

All this; listening to Elizabeth sing, laying on the right side of the bed, waiting for his turn in the shower, all that was part of the routine.

The letters, however, were not.

**Love it? Hate it? PLEASE REVIEW! It would mean so much to me and also mean more chapters for you! Tell me what you think! Also I would love it if you wrote down some possible career ideas for Will. Right now he has a job but he wants to be something different, I'm just not sure what yet. Any help would be greatly appreciated! **

**Thank you and I hope you enjoyed the chapter (you now know Noelle),**

**~Liliana**


	4. Chapter 3

**New chapter everyone! Thank you to the one person who reviewed, Tiryn, who I dedicate this chapter to. I worked really hard on this one and I like it a lot. I bring up the Manic Pixie Dream Girl trope which I think isn't as bad as everyone says and do my best to explain that. You get to learn a little more about Noelle from her letter and life is starting to change for Will. It also brings up Elizabethtown which I love but most people hate. Either way, I suggest you watch it if you can. It's great and has Orlando Bloom, so... Anyways, enjoy!  
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**PS I will not put up another chapter until more than one person reviews. I'm sorry if that's selfish but I worked really hard on this chapter so please (reviews mean the world to me). Thank you.**

**PPS PLEASE give me some ideas for what you want Will to do (as a job) other than being a personal assistant. Something he'd actually enjoy.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Pirates of the Caribbean, Elizabethtown or the idea of the Manic Pixie Dream Girl (I don't know if I need to put a disclaimer on that but I will anyways)**

Chapter 3:

Will was uncertain with what to do with this new information; the fact that the letters gave him a chance to stray from his mundane routine. If he didn't act on it soon enough, the chance would be lost.

He didn't know how to change things though which resulted in more awkwardness in the already awkward letters. He wasn't sure how to respond or what to say. The exchanges often consisted of Angel saying something seemingly random (which he supposed was just whatever they were thinking of in that moment) and profound, in Will's opinion, and Will answering with short responses, mostly just agreeing with whatever they had said.

He began to fear that he wouldn't be able to change anything and that the letters would become part of his routine, just like everything else. Slowly but surely the fear grew. Well, at least until he received the sixth letter. The sixth letter changed everything.

Will received it near the end of April, a little over a month or so since he got the first one. He hadn't thought about the letters all day, being rather busy with work's demands and having to organize a charity event for his boss, Jack. By the time he got home Elizabeth was already asleep in bed and it was well past midnight. Out of habit he checked the mailbox and found a letter there. He supposed that Elizabeth hadn't checked that day and for that he was grateful.

He only opened it once he was safely locked in his bathroom; afraid that Elizabeth would wake up and see him reading it if he opened it anywhere else in the apartment. He sat leaning against the wall in the small room, his feet pressed against the tub.

As it always did before he read one of the letters, his heart raced slightly. The excitement hadn't worn off yet and even if his responses to the letters were dreadfully bland and awkward, Angel continued to write to him and managed to say something interesting each time. He took a deep breath before he began to read, wondering, as always, if this letter would somehow provide him with all the answers he needed.

_Dear friend,_ it began.

_I am beginning to realize something. I guess I always sort of knew but until now I couldn't see it with such clarity. Let me explain._

_Recently I have become aware of something called a trope. If you don't know what that is, I apologize since I'm not very good at explaining. Basically, from what I can gather, it is a categorization of characters in writing. All stories have characters that will fit into a trope; the person who always has their head in the clouds or the one who is the outsider and has no friends, etc. A trope has a larger meaning than that but I'm not really sure what it is since this is all I've been focusing on. Well, I've been focusing on one trope in particular; the Manic Pixie Dream Girl._

_The Manic Pixie Dream Girl is a trope that while usually referring simply to women, occasionally can be reversed for a man (the Manic Pixie Dream Boy/Guy). A film critic coined the term after watching the movie Elizabethtown (which for whatever reason everyone hates but I love. I suggest you watch it and tell me what you think). He said that Claire Colburn, Kirsten Dunst's character, was a Manic Pixie Dream Girl. _

_A Manic Pixie Dream Girl is basically a character who is quirky and attractive and exists solely to teach the soulful, brooding (usually white male) main character how to love life again. She usually has no dreams or ambitions of her own and she's just there to be happy and look pretty and often (but not always) ends up as the love interest._

_There are a lot of reasons why this trope interests me so much; the first one being my difference in opinion from everyone else's. Everyone hates this trope and I'm not sure why. Who wouldn't love a quirky woman who loves life and has a childlike personality? There's nothing wrong with that at all. In a world as scary and cruel as this one, why would you hate someone who manages to bring some beauty into it? The only problem I see is the fact that she's only there to change the male's life. That and how 2-dimensional she often is. _

_Because of that I have come to the conclusion that a Manic Pixie Dream Girl cannot exist. Not by that definition at least. Not in movies, not in books, not in real life. A Manic Pixie Dream Girl is a concept and can only be that through the eyes of someone else. She can never be a Manic Pixie Dream Girl; he can only see her as such. All characters have a separate life from what the main character sees, a deeper back story, a side of themselves that the main character doesn't know about, etc.; just like in real life. She cannot only be a Manic Pixie Dream Girl; there must be more to her but we just can't see it. The only reality people have is their own which is why we assume a Manic Pixie Dream Girl is 2-dimensional when really; the main character (and us since we see through their eyes) just sees her as such. _

_She can, of course, still be his Manic Pixie Dream Girl if he sees her as a person but we don't get to see that. The real problem, the thing that has made people despise the trope, is when a male (especially in real life) begins to push their fantasies of a Manic Pixie Dream Girl onto someone else. Then he doesn't see her as a person but more as a character and that's an issue. I don't know if that makes any sense. Do you understand what I'm trying to say or is it absolute gibberish? I'm sorry if you have no idea what I'm saying, I sometimes have trouble conveying my thoughts to others._

_Moving on though, I wanted to talk about another aspect of the idea of the Manic Pixie Dream Girl that interests me. It is just that, despite everyone hating the trope, people still want to be like her; myself included. Sure, I wasn't aware of the actual name of the trope, or even what a trope was, but I, and many others, are incredibly obsessed with being quirky and different. I have subconsciously been trying to fit into many certain categories all my life; this one being one of the most major. Once I realized this, I realized that a lot of myself isn't me. It's the reflection of others, of people I wanted to be like. Upon further inspection I wasn't sure if I wanted to be a Manic Pixie Dream Girl, have a Manic Pixie Dream Girl (or Guy/Boy) or have the kind of loving, spontaneous relationship a Manic Pixie Dream Girl has with her main character. It occurred to me that when I exclaimed I was going to save you and therefore save myself, I was proclaiming myself your Manic Pixie Dream Girl. I have realized that I cannot be that because they do not exist. _

_In some ways, I do fit the trope. I am definitely quirky. I wear converse with different coloured laces paired with vintage dresses and leather jackets. I sing all the time and people-watch on the subway and in the park. I photograph couples falling in love and the sky and graffiti and I carry my notebook with me everywhere. I lie on the floor and listen to music with my eyes closed and I shop at thrift stores. I watch indie films (and love them) and I have a wild imagination. I go stargazing every once in a while and frequent old jazz clubs and book stores. I own a record player and a Polaroid and I have a clothing rack in the middle of my living room. I have a collection of old bottles and way too many beanies (including a red one like in Elizabethtown). I've danced alone in the park without music in broad daylight and I give people random nicknames in my head. I eat cake for breakfast and have cereal for dinner and drink tea at least once a day, if not more. I like to bathe with rose petals and I write poetry on my arms in the middle of the night so I don't forget it in the morning. I eat dinner at 2 am sometimes and I listen to singers like Katie Melua and Regina Spektor. I dance while cooking and I like to go barefoot. I own flower crowns and I draw on my shoes. I wear glasses sometimes, even though I don't need them and have a see through umbrella. I have dyed sections of my hair or cut it off myself on a whim. I have books in my food cupboards and I tend to smell like sweet things. I paint pictures on my body and occasionally wear bright tights. I can play ukulele and the walls of my room are covered in random quotes and photos. I am practically the definition of a Manic Pixie Dream Girl just waiting to help some poor unfortunate soul. _

_But I'm not a Manic Pixie Dream Girl. I have my own dreams and ambitions. I work 2 jobs just to get by (I'm a bartender and a waitress) and am taking part time classes. I also take occasional performing gigs when I can get them, which once resulted in working at a Burlesque club for a month (which only worked because I had done a production of Chicago! in high school). Sure, I wear vintage dresses but my style is about as consistent as my mood. Yes, I can play ukulele but I can also play guitar, piano, drums, bass, percussion, trumpet, sax and flute. I do listen to indie music but I also love bands like the Beatles or singers like Adele. I watch indie films but I also love horror movies or superhero ones or capers. I own flower crowns but I also own a pocket knife. I've lost people I care about and sometimes have a hard time continuing; hardly the happy childish girl who loves life. I do love art and retro things but that doesn't mean I don't love modern things as well. I am only a Manic Pixie Dream Girl in the sense that I am different. I thought all those things were what made me, me but I was trying to fit into that stereotype without knowing. I'm not saying that's not part of who I am but part of it is simply a reflection of the society I grew up in. Realizing that sent me for a spin this past week. Without all that, who am I? Then I realized I was so much more than all those things in the first place. Perhaps I am my own version of a Manic Pixie Dream Girl; the version that is quirky and wonderful but does not exist simply for a man. I am not 2-dimensional and I am not here for men to project their fantasies on to. If I change your life, that's great! But that's not why I am here. If you are in my life it's because I want you to be, not because I was "written" into yours. I am simply who I am and nothing more and nothing less. I am not a trope, I am not an idea, I am not a stereotype; I am just me. I hope that's enough for you._

_Anyways, I'm not really that much of the "Dream" part of the Manic Pixie Dream Girl. It's the "Dream" part that implies the uniqueness but everyone is different, aren't they? People become so obsessed with "not being like other girls" or being unique that they don't realize that they already are. In their effort to be special they forget they already are special. Changing themselves to fit some trope doesn't make them any more special; it only takes a bit away from their own individuality. They also forget that there is nothing wrong with being like other girls; though in my opinion that phrase shouldn't even exist. Everyone is different, therefore there is no way to be or not be like "other girls". Still, there are people who are more similar to each other than others. I have always been one of those people who have been even more different and that's just how it is and that's fine. _

_By default we will all be different and all be the same. I don't know why being the same is such a bad thing. What's the problem with being the "basic" or "common" girl? So what if I like Starbucks and the internet and spending time with friends? Alternatively, there's nothing wrong with being the one who reads instead of socializes, who barely talks and who writes in her journal. Everyone is special and important and I don't know why everyone is so afraid of their own individuality while at the same time being so afraid of being like others._

_So let's make a pact. Let's make a pact not to be an indie film. Let's just be ourselves; brutally honest in all that we are and all that we are not. Let's get rid of all expectations and let's let things play out how they may. Maybe you are a soulful brooding male character and maybe I am a Manic Pixie Dream Girl, just what you need to get going but let's not assign ourselves to those roles. Let's just be who we are and see what happens._

_Deal?_

_This also brings me to a revision of my earlier statement of my quest for salvation. I said that by saving you I would be saving myself and I have now realized that won't be possible. The only person anyone can save is their selves, so I suggest that instead of trying to do the impossible, and if not impossible at least demeaning, act of saving each other, why don't we focus on saving ourselves together?_

_Sound like a plan?_

_Sincerely,_

_Your Not-So-Manic Pixie Dream Girl_

Will finished reading the letter with an odd sense of calm washing over him. Angel (who he now knew was a girl) had destroyed all his hopes and expectations but left him with a new sense of reality. He supposed he had been looking for a Manic Pixie Dream Girl but this letter made him realize that he didn't need one. It told him that he was enough. Now he realized that he had to embrace everything how it was without hoping for some magical being to come sweep him away from his boring life. He realized that he didn't have to have excitement to live or be happy. Most importantly, he realized that the problem wasn't with his life; it was with him.

And only he could fix it.

* * *

><p>Their relationship changed after that letter. Noelle wasn't sure what was different but perhaps the receiver of her letters had had come to a realization, just as she had.<p>

The change was clearly noticeable though. The next letter she received was easily two times in length next to the other ones she had gotten from the person she had been corresponding with and suddenly, they were a lot easier to connect with and much more open. Yes, their writing was still rather awkward and stiff but she was finally learning something about them.

He (and yes, it was a he as he told her) had started with agreeing with her, which is what he usually did. There was something different about it this time though. He said that he would be completely honest with her and be entirely himself. He had agreed to the deal she had proposed and seemed much happier in this letter somehow. He had then gone on to tell her a bit about himself.

He was a personal assistant and he hated his job. He told her about his girlfriend and he had spoken with so much fondness that even through his stiff writing she could tell how much he loved her. The thought had made Noelle smile. It seemed to her that he loved his girlfriend in the purest sense of the word, unconditionally and deeply. He had told her that his girlfriend was the love of his life and that she was the only one he had ever loved.

It pleased Noelle to know that that love still existed. A part of her hoped that she would find a love like that but most of her didn't worry. Love had always been something that she wanted but seemed far away like something of a fairy tale. Noelle had, of course, fallen in love before but she had a feeling that it wasn't the sort of love you felt when you were with the person you were meant to be with; your soulmate or the One or whatever. She still had yet to find that. Even so, it didn't consume her thoughts. Having someone by her side wouldn't necessarily make her life any better so she waited to find someone who made her happy. They didn't have to be her One or anything like that; they just had to make her smile.

Her favourite part of the letter though, was the near the end.

_As explained above, I do not have much time due to my job. It is rather demanding and my boss is slightly insane, in my opinion, which leaves little time for other things. This means I usually do not watch TV or movies and means I am not very up to date in a lot of aspects of pop culture (and know much too much about other aspects due to my job) but I did manage to watch Elizabethtown and I agree wholeheartedly with what you said. I did not quite appreciate it the first time I watched it, which probably had something to do with my girlfriend disliking it immensely (she watched it with me) but I have since watched it two more times alone, just so I could get a better idea of it and be able to have something to talk about with you. I am well aware that I am the boring one of the two of us but I've decided to try to be a little more invested in our conversations so it isn't so painful for you. I'm also aware of my awkwardness in my writing which will only go away with time, so I apologize for that. _

_But back to that brilliant film. I loved it. _

At that point Noelle had to stop reading for a moment, just so she could hide her smile in her palm as she sat on the subway, aware that she couldn't actually let out the excited little noise she was holding in.

_I don't understand what people don't like about it. In my opinion it was fantastic and I would dare to go as far as to say it has become my favourite movie. I think that maybe people don't like it because it's not full of adventure and action but I've had enough of those movies to last me a lifetime. I loved this movie because it was real. It focused on real life and what makes the seemingly ordinary extraordinary, just so long as you look hard enough. I think people think it's a love story (and a bad one at that) but it isn't. It's a story _about_ love but not in the way you'd think. It's about love of life, love of family, love of friends and finally, after all those things, comes the romantic love. She doesn't save him; his father saves him. The movie is about people like you and me and that's why I love it and why I think everyone else hates it. They want something with spies and celebrities and people who are different and unreal but your letter made me realize that it's not those things or those people that make life wonderful; it's all the things you take for granted. They don't understand that. _

_Not like we do._

Noelle grinned; unsure of how else to react. She had never met another person who loved the film like she had or had actually given thought to it. He had explained it perfectly, saying everything she had thought about the movie without her having to tell him. He had just understood.

Noelle's smile grew as she glanced down at the page in her lap. She let out a soft little laugh at the words she had missed in her excitement.

_Sincerely,_

_Friend,_ it read.

_PS Who's Adele?_

**Love it? Hate it? PLEASE REVIEW! Like I said it means a lot to me and it'll mean more chapters for you so please, please, please let me know what you think. Also don't forget to leave ideas for Will's future job. **

**Thanks!  
><strong>

**~Liliana**


	5. Chapter 4

**Finally, a new chapter! Sorry I was gone for so long but no one reviewed and I had no motivation. Only one person reviewed but I thought I should write a new chapter anyways. I really hope I get more reviews now that the story is going to get going more but we'll see. This chapter is short and a bit of a filler but I think it's necessary and despite that, I kinda like it. This is dedicated to maple12, the only reviewer of the last chapter. Enjoy!  
><strong>

**PS please review and let me know what you think Will should do as a job.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Pirates of the Caribbean.**

Chapter 4:

After that they became friends quite easily. She sent him things to read or listen to or watch and he had enjoyed every one of them, replying with words that seemed as if he had taken them right from her own mouth.

The more they spoke, the more connected they seemed, their opinions being similar enough to get along, different enough to keep things interesting. They worked together in their quest to save themselves, Noelle doing her best to strip away the pieces of herself that had come from others, Will doing his best to add more to himself through others.

He watched more films, listened to more music, read more books, and consequently, smiled more. She stripped herself down to the basis of her being, focusing on only doing things she liked, only doing things for her, and consequently, was happier.

Together they built themselves up, finding themselves in each other and the world around them. Will discovered that he _did_ like music; just not the kind that Elizabeth listened to. Noelle realized that she actually hated her song writing class and dropped it.

Anyone who knew either of them saw a change in the two; more smiles, more laughter, more happiness.

It was about the tenth letter in that she had presented an idea called Random Thought of the Day which was when she just sent him something that she thought of out of nowhere and thought she should share with someone. Just things like "_emptiness feels cold_" or "_the colour purple probably smells like sleepiness_". Despite making no sense and having no context, he somehow always seemed to understand what she was saying and added his own thoughts, which she found were quite insightful.

She found that he was actually quite smart, more than he let on or showed. She learned that he was incredibly hard working, honest in principal and he hated apples and rum. His favourite food was fish and he thought that clubs were too loud. He was a good person and a bit of a romantic and he didn't get out much due to his job. He loved his girlfriend more than he loved himself, he disliked his boss almost as much as he disliked apples and he felt neutral towards their doorman. He had few to no friends, though he wasn't unlikable, and she got the sense that he was quiet and reserved.

On the other end of the spectrum he learned that she loved peaches, adored cats and was incredibly musical. He discovered that she sometimes forgot to eat because she was so busy and she actually liked being a waitress and a bartender. She hated rude people and beer and feeling cold. She was not exactly loud, but she spoke her mind, and she was sweet and spontaneous. She thought words were made of magic and loved music more than anything else in the world. She wanted to write songs but she had trouble with them and had a near dangerous need to prove herself.

She was extreme and he was mild, and somehow, someway, that worked.

**Love it? Hate it? PLEASE REVIEW! It would mean a lot to me and mean more chapters for you since I won't update until I get some reviews. I hope you liked it. This was the first chapter that wasn't in either's point of view so that was different. Tell me what you think and don't forget to let me know what you think Will should do as a job.**

**Thanks,**

**~Liliana**


	6. Chapter 5

**Hey guys, I'm finally back. Again, I am so sorry for disappearing but know that no matter how long I am gone, I will not abandon this story. I'm sorry this took so long and that this isn't a great chapter but I needed to transition into a different way of telling the narrative, now focusing more on the lives of these two instead of their letters. Still, I hope you enjoy and thank you for all your suggestions and reviews, they really warm my heart.  
><strong>

**Disclaimer: I do not own Pirates of the Caribbean.**

Chapter 5:

"We're going to New York."

The announcement came out of seemingly nowhere, surprising Will and everyone else in the room.

"What?" Will asked. "Why?"

His boss, Jack, slammed a large stack of paper onto the table, letting it hit the wood with a satisfying sound before answering.

"New role," was all he said.

Will had to hold back his sigh as he nodded, his mind already on the preparations he would have to make.

"How long will we be there for?"

"Should be no more than five months if everything goes according to schedule," Jack replied with his famous crooked grin.

Unfortunately, his grin wasn't the only famous thing about him.

Will worked for Jack Sparrow. That's right, _the _Jack Sparrow; movie star, stuntman and producer extraordinaire. Starring in such films as _The Gallows, Stranded At Sea_ and _Tortuga _and being the original founder and owner of Black Pearl Films, Jack was one of the most well known actors in the business. For whatever reason he had millions of fangirls, attracted to his scruffy appearance and odd swagger. Will wasn't sure why since he looked like a drunken pirate to him but he kept that to himself.

Jack was insane, or so Will thought since there was no other explanation for the way he sometimes acted, but Will was at his mercy. This job provided for him and Elizabeth and Will couldn't afford to give up working as a personal assistant for someone so powerful while Elizabeth was still becoming a rising star in the modeling world. Eventually, once Elizabeth was well established and earning enough, Will could quit and do something he liked, but for now he was stuck with his slightly crazy boss. Besides, before Will could even think about quitting, he would have to have something worth quitting for and right now he didn't have that. If he didn't know what he wanted, he would just end up in an even worse job than this one. No, it would be better to figure all that out first before doing anything rash.

"What's the film?" Will asked Jack, his voice neutral and bored. It didn't matter. Jack had enough "excitement" for the both of them.

"It's called _The Key_ and it's about a couple that meet in New York and fall in love, blah, blah, blah, but he's into something sketchy and he needs to find this key to a chest to get out of it for whatever reason and she needs to help him in order to have the key to his heart or something. You best check over it," Jack told Will. "I'll want my lines highlighted by the morning and we should be ready to board the plane by 2, savvy?"

Will nodded, used to the movie star's odd habits and sayings, before picking up the large script and placing it in his bag.

"Tickets are already bought," Jack continued, pulling a couple from his pockets and tossing them to Will and a few other select people at the table; Mr. Gibbs, for example, his manager and agent. "But you need to deal with the rest. We'll need a hotel, drivers and a nearby gym; the usual." He began to leave the room, dismissing everyone at the table before turning back to Will. "Oh and I want reservations for 3 at that sushi place I like tonight and call Tia Dalma and let her know we're coming to town so she can put me on the list for Calypso."

"Of course," Will responded, his expression tight.

"Great!" Jack exclaimed before leaving for real this time, causing Will to let out a sigh of relief.

This was going to be a long five months.

Or so he thought.

* * *

><p>Noelle was not an especially tall person. In fact, she was a little on the short side, though not ridiculously so. She was slightly smaller than average but not to the point that it caused difficulties for her.<p>

Well, usually at least.

Today it was making it rather hard for her to keep an eye on the sign saying which number was next in line. This was partially due to the large man standing in front of her but she cursed her height nonetheless, knowing she would be late for her waitressing job if she wasn't called forward in the next 5 minutes.

She was number 79 and she wouldn't have even bothered with this all if it hadn't been for the fact that it was her best friend Stephanie's birthday and this pastry shop had the best donuts in the city, which also happened to be Stephanie's favourites.

At that moment the man in front of her moved a bit to the left, causing Noelle to jump up slightly in order to see the number on the sign. She sighed with relief as she made her way to the front, seeing her number flash in neon lettering.

"Here you go Miss," a teenage employee said as they passed her the box of donuts she had ordered, still hot from the oven.

"Thanks so much!" Noelle replied, grabbing the box and shooting a bright smile in the way of the employee before doing her best to maneuver through the crush of people trying to get their morning pastries.

She managed to reach the street faster than she thought she would and, allowing herself a moment to catch her breath, she then made her way to the nearest subway station.

It took 10 minutes to get to work, giving her a moment to spare as she entered the small diner, already wrapping her apron around her waist before she had even stepped behind the counter.

"Steph!" She called behind her into the back room where she knew the other girl would be.

"Yeah?" the pretty young woman answered, popping her head out.

Noelle grinned at her, tossing the box in her best friend's direction. She knew she would catch it; Stephanie always did. It had come in handy working at the diner, considering both the staff and clientele were pretty clumsy.

"Oh wow!" Stephanie exclaimed upon closer inspection. She looked up at Noelle with a grateful smile, excitement in her voice. "You remembered! Thanks so much!"

Noelle grinned.

"Of course I remembered!" She replied, pulling the other woman into a quick hug. "Happy birthday Steph."

"Hey!" a voice called from their right, Noelle quickly recognizing it as their boss, Charlie's. "Get back to work!"

"We'll sing later," Noelle whispered before pulling away and picking up a tray.

Stephanie laughed and shook her head, not even bothering to protest. She knew that once Noelle had something in her head, no one could stop her from doing it.

For best friends the two waitresses appeared completely different. Stephanie's long brown hair was the opposite of Noelle's shoulder length blonde waves. Stephanie was both taller and more fit than the other girl, not to mention a few months older. Her eyes were a deep chocolate colour and her skin an olive shade verses Noelle's pale complexion and stunning grey irises. Noelle's high cheekbones rivalled Stephanie's warm features and sweet dimples and her slender frame was nothing compared to Stephanie's toned body.

There were similarities however. Both of them always seemed to be smiling and their eyes were always bright and alive. The women enjoyed music together and found they shared the same opinion on many films and books. In terms of personality, both were kind and sweet though Noelle tended to be a bit more assertive and stubborn while Stephanie was constantly compromising and trying to make everyone happy. Stephanie was a lovely woman, however, and Noelle was glad to have someone so cheerful in her life.

Still, once in a while Noelle wanted more. Someone who shared her realism instead of someone filled with constant optimism. Someone who had lost and not just loved. Someone who struggled with themselves as much as she did.

Someone like the man in her letters.

**Love it? Hate it? PLEASE REVIEW! It means a lot to me and means more chapters for you. I don't need any more job suggestions but thank you all for everything you sent in. Please tell me what you think now that new characters have been introduced and Noelle and Will will be in the same city. What will happen next? Tell me your thoughts in a review!**

**Thanks,**

**~Liliana**


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